


sweet heart of yours

by michellejones_stacy



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Abby Keener is a Little Shit, Angst, Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Awkward Potatoes in Love, Blood and Injury, College Student Harley Keener, Emotionally Constipated Harley Keener, Fluff, Gunshot Wounds, Harley Keener and Gwen Stacy are Best Friends, Harley Keener is a Certifiable Disaster, Harley doesn't know that Peter is Spider-Man or a famous author, Identity Reveal, M/M, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Neighbors, Peter Parker Has Social Anxiety, Stabbing, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Writer!Peter Parker, and i will have additional warnings in the end notes of whatever chapter it's in, and then turned into my emotional projection fic im sorry, but he's still Spider-Man, but it's not until later, he is an Awkward Potato and Harley is HERE FOR IT, no beta we die like men, the truth is i have no idea i just like her, this began as a serious fic, why is Gwen in this you ask?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michellejones_stacy/pseuds/michellejones_stacy
Summary: "Oh, you're my floor neighbor," Harley said casually.All Cute Guy did was nod, his face a flaming red. Harley let him out of the elevator first, slowly making his way to his own apartment. He watched as Cute Guy unlocked his door and then practically ran into his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him.Okay then.orPeter and Harley live next to each other, their friends are meddlesome but well-meaning, and Spider-Man, apparently, likes to get involved in the lives of strangers who find him bleeding on their bathroom floor.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Gwen Stacy, Harley Keener & Harley Keener's Sister, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Gwen Stacy, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is going to be my first multichapter fic in a while, so I'm really excited to see where it goes. I've already outlined the entire thing, but I've only actually written the first three chapters, so no consistent update schedule as of yet.
> 
> also, this will be my first attempt at writing Gwen Stacy, so please excuse my faulty attempt at writing her. Harley needed a friend who wasn't his sister, and I really want to get into writing Gwen, so.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at the moment, none of this story is beta-read (my usual beta is going to be unavailable for the duration of this process and I don't know anybody else who'd, like, actually want to or would be interested), so feedback is greatly appreciated :)

Harley had thought about his future as a kid. His main goal was to never be like his father. Ever. No matter what. He would never be a mechanic or a lying dirtbag who left his family. He refused to be anything close to what his father was.

Which is why he worked his butt off. He took AP classes all throughout high school and excelled in each and every one of them. He used to study for _hours_ every day, not wanting to go to sleep unless he was absolutely sure he understood the material. Doing that messed up his sleep schedule—enough to the point where, now that he was in college, he had trouble sleeping—but it was worth it.

Because now, Harley was in New York, going to college. He wasn’t in that small town in the middle of nowhere. He was in New York, in his own apartment, on a scholarship to a college that his mother had told him he wouldn’t get into.

Really, the entire reason he was here was because of his mother. She’d told him that, even with all of his studying and AP classes and the countless community service hours he’d put in, he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

“It’s hard to make something of yourself in the world,” she’d told him, voice shaking and tears in her eyes. “I should know. You’re better off not trying.”

Did it hurt? Yeah. It did. Being told that you should just - give up on what you’re striving for because it’ll never work is always a punch to the face.

But Harley was done with it. He was done staying in Rose Hill for the rest of his life, and he was done with allowing the growing resentment towards his mother to grow even more. He was going to do something with his life, something that would help people, something that would show his mother that _she_ was the one who couldn’t make something of herself, not him.

Even if he wasn’t entirely sure on how to go about doing that.

The whole reason he was able to afford this apartment, small as it was—because the scholarship only paid his tuition, not the cost for the dorms, which he wasn’t paying for on his own—was because of Tony Stark.

They’d kept in touch over the years, Tony calling about once a month to check in on, as he liked to call him, the “Potato Kid who saved my life.”

Tony was a jackass.

Harley remembered talking to Tony one month, after graduation and when he’d been awarded the scholarship, and saying that he was worried about how he would pay for everything. He’d known from Tony that living in any city was expensive, and the only money Harley had was the small amount he’d saved up from odd jobs here and there, and it wasn’t anywhere close to the amount he’d needed to stay on campus.

The conversation had become stilted after that, Tony going damn near silent, and they’d said their goodbyes not soon after that.

Barely a week had passed before Harley got another call from Tony. For as long as they’d been talking to each other, Tony had never, _ever_ , called more than once every month. It was like an unspoken rule. Like if Tony called more than that, both of them would get attached to the other—like they weren’t already, honestly—and that would only bring less than stellar things.

Regardless of any rule, spoken or otherwise, Tony had called again, with the offer to fly him out to New York to see the campus he’d be attending in just a couple of weeks.

Except it wasn’t _just_ to see the campus, as Harley had learned after they’d done that. Apparently, Tony had rented an apartment for him. An _actual_ apartment.

It was close to campus, and just big enough for one person to live comfortably.

Harley had refused it at first. He hadn’t wanted charity. He hadn’t _needed_ charity.

But then Tony had said that it wasn’t charity, not exactly. He expected Harley to pay half of the rent each month, and pay for his own groceries, and Tony would take all the bills—electricity, water, heat—and the other half of the rent. And maybe he’d consider letting Harley pay him back once he’d graduated from college.

Harley firmly had _not_ been grateful. At all. (Maybe he'd been a little grateful.)

He sighed, pushing aside all thoughts of Tony and being grateful, and sat up in bed. He had a morning class, one that he needed to be at in less than an hour, which wasn’t really a problem. Harley didn’t have any semblance of a life, so he literally had nothing else to do but get ready for class. Which sucked, obviously, but.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Harley yawned, rubbing his eyes. He stood up and started to stumble his way to the bathroom out in the hall, carefully stepping over the random piles of clothes on the floor. He really needed to do laundry, he just hadn’t gotten around to it for the last two or so weeks.

Harley went about the apartment going through his usual Thursday morning routine—he took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, put deodorant on, and looked in the fridge for something to eat—which turned out to be a red apple—making sure to pick up his bag and pull on a pair of sneakers by the front door before he left.

(He made a mental note to stop for some groceries after class—he was in serious trouble if the most he could scrounge up for breakfast was an _apple_. His fridge was literally empty, and he decided against trying to remember the last time he went grocery shopping.)

He locked the apartment door behind him, and made his way to the elevator, beginning to make sure he was mentally prepared for his morning class. In all honesty, he didn’t even know why he’d selected the morning slot for his required math class. Math wasn’t his subject—meaning he hated it—and mornings weren’t for him, either. He knew this. Therefore, he should’ve known that mornings _and_ math put together wasn’t going to work out in his favor, but Harley was obviously an idiot, so it couldn’t be helped. And when it was _Monday_ and a morning and he had math class? It was more than safe to say that Harley had trouble getting out of bed those days.

While in the process of selecting his classes for the first term, Harley had made the grave mistake—God, and he hated to admit it, but he _really_ should’ve taken Tony’s advice—of only signing up for the required classes, the ones he had to take. He just - he hadn’t known what he wanted to do with his life, he _still_ didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, and he’d decided to work around that uncertainty by only signing up for the required classes. Looking back, it wasn’t his smartest decision, but it was the one he’d made and now he was going to have to deal with it. He’d already been dealing with it for close to three months now, so it wasn’t like it would be hard.

He did have some time before he needed to decide what he wanted to do with his life, so, for the time being, it looked like Harley was just going to be stuck with what he got.

~

Harley grumbled to himself as he carefully pressed the button to make the elevator go to the fourth floor of the building, which is where his apartment was. He hated taking the elevator because it didn’t always seem the sturdiest or most trustworthy way of transportation, but Harley was not walking up four flights of stairs, especially not when he had groceries.

His morning class had gone well—he hadn’t fallen asleep, at least—and he’d stopped by the grocery store on his way back. Currently, he was carrying two paper bags filled to the brim with vegetables and fruits and other healthy things—you see, he could be a responsible adult—and ice cream, and one or two (or four) Crunch bars.

In his early weeks living in New York, Harley had discovered a small, family-owned grocery shop that sold a lot of things for a relatively cheap price. Given Harley’s amount of income—which was, ironically and disgustingly, a result of him working as a mechanic in a nearby auto shop—he really hated it, but the pay was good and it would work until Harley found another job that paid more—and where most of said income was going, the shop was a good find.

The elevator doors opened, and Harley stepped off, doing his best to make sure he didn’t trip over the small gap in between the elevator and the actual floor of the building.

The apartment building, while in a good neighborhood, was a small one. Harley wasn’t exactly sure how popular it was, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t extremely well-known. On each floor of the building—which was only ten floors high—there were only two apartments. It worked out well for Harley—he and his floormate didn’t really interact. He was almost positive that he’d never seen the person who lived in the apartment across from his, actually, which was weird, yes, but Harley wasn’t all that interested in making friends.

The lone friend he had was more than enough for him.

“ _Finally_ ,” came the voice of the friend in question, who was sitting against the wall next to his door, and Harley sighed.

He walked closer to his apartment door to the left of the elevator. “Why are you on the floor?” he asked, shifting both bags of groceries into his left hand so he could pull his keys out of the front pocket of his jeans.

“I was waiting for you, asshole,” Gwen said, pushing herself off the ground, bringing her brown messenger bag with her. “How was I supposed to know you’d be at the store?”

Harley didn’t answer, instead proceeding to unlock his door and step inside, leaving the door open for Gwen. He was greeted with the familiar sight of the disgustingly tan walls and dark, hardwood floors.

“Take your shoes off,” he said over his shoulder as he toed his own sneakers off by the front door, leaving them there.

“Why?” she whined. “That’s such a bullshit thing to do.”

“I don’t know where you’ve been and you’re not getting, I don’t know, mud or some shit on my floors,” he shot back, continuing on his way to the kitchen area. “Take your damn shoes off.”

This was an argument they’d been having for a while. Gwen was a lazy bum who never felt like taking her shoes off, because that meant putting them back _on_ when she left, and that was “too much work, Harley, I have to bend down and put them back on again, and, no.” She got on Harley’s nerves most of the time, but he saw her as a mildly less annoying version of Abby—and that was debatable some days—which meant, unfortunately, he loved and had to tolerate her.

“You act like I’m someone who works in a zoo,” Gwen complained, but she did take her shoes off and leave them next to Harley’s before making her way into the kitchen area, where he was putting the groceries away.

“You sure act like one,” he said casually. “And I’d say you’re more someone who _lives_ in a zoo.” He shot her a stern look as he passed her two of the four Crunch bars he’d bought at the store. “You’re supposed to get your period next week, don’t eat them before you get it.”

Gwen smiled happily, dumping her bag on the island before bringing the chocolate bars close to her chest as she hopped onto the counter by the bags of groceries. And then she promptly ignored his instructions, immediately ripping one of the bars open and proceeding to eat it.

Harley rolled his eyes, turning away from her and secretly grabbing the other two chocolate bars to hide them in one of the kitchen drawers. Gwen was so predictable it should’ve been annoying, but was instead annoyingly endearing. _She_ herself was annoyingly endearing. Like Abby. And like some of his ex-boyfriends back in Rose Hill.

Curse Harley and his tendency to care about annoying individuals, honestly.

“Dude,” Gwen said, her words garbled by the chocolate bar she was eating. Harley really needed to stop enabling her (and he was calling it what it was) Crunch bar addiction. “If I was into guys, I’d date you.”

Harley continued to put away his groceries, not even batting an eye. Gwen’s statement had been one she’d said to him multiple times throughout the course of their friendship, so he wasn’t all that surprised by it. In addition to caring about annoying individuals, Harley was apparently drawn to some of the weirdos, too. Which made sense, considering that Harley himself was kind of weird.

“And if I was into girls, I’d date you, too.”

It wasn’t like he was lying. Gwen was awesome. Perky, but not overly so in the mornings. Right in the middle of being super neat and a total slob, she couldn’t cook for shit but it was okay because Harley was decent enough and she always ate what he made without complaint. She didn’t _snore_ —she did have the tendency to kick Harley off the bed when they slept together, which was - _no_ but Harley could deal with it. She had a plan for her life—go to college to get a degree, in something that Harley couldn’t remember the name of, while working an unpaid internship at some newspaper office, so that everything was set for when she eventually was able to pursue her dreams of becoming a journalist. And, most importantly, she liked Harley. And nobody liked Harley, not unless they had to, or not unless it was only for a short amount of time, so. Yeah. If Harley was romantically or sexually attracted to girls, he’d date her.

“Can we not watch Gossip Girl today?” he asked, forcing a fake note of irritation into his voice. “I have a class in a few hours.” In this case, _a few hours_ meant his class started at six tonight, and it was barely even nine in the morning now.

Gwen hopped down off the counter and pressed a loud, and wet, kiss to his cheek. “Of course we’re watching it, dummy,” she responded, moving away towards the couch to flop down on it and turn the TV on. “I don’t have any classes or work today, so we’re spending time together, and Gossip Girls is how we do it.”

Harley rolled his eyes, even though Gwen couldn’t see him. It was the principle of things, he supposed. He really didn’t have that much of a problem with Gossip Girls—it was a nice show—but the big thing here was that he didn’t want to admit to that, and the only way for him to watch it without feeling like a turd was for him to complain about it so Gwen put it on.

He finished putting away all of the groceries, idly noting that he forgot to get more milk and that he needed to get a gallon over the weekend. As he was about to make his way over to the couch to sit with Gwen, she called out to him.

“Oh, and I brought you a book to read. It’s in my bag,” she said, gesturing lazily in the direction of her bag and keeping her eyes trained on the TV. “It’s about a gay guy, so I thought you’d like it.”

Harley rolled his eyes. He was starting to assume that it was an action he performed a lot in Gwen’s presence. She just brought that out in him. “Thank you for assuming that my sexuality determines the type of media I consume,” he drawled sarcastically, even though she was totally right. There was nothing better than watching or reading things purely because of the gay content, because it usually led to him liking something else about whatever he was watching or reading.

“I got you,” she said, not missing a beat, and Harley had to roll his eyes again.

He pulled the book out of her bag. “‘Once Upon A Gay Fantasy’.” He shot Gwen a glance. “Really? It sounds like porn.” She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the TV. “Benjamin Peters? Who’s that?”

“Some author, obviously,” Gwen responded.

“Yeah, no shit.” Harley shook his head, opening the book to read the back cover sleeve. “‘Benjamin Peters lives somewhere in New York, with no pets, no kids, and no significant other. You can reach him on his blog, benpeters.com. He credits his writing to his aunt, May.’” He pauses, reading over the small paragraph. “So, wait - no one knows who this guy is?”

“‘Parently so.” Gwen sits up on the couch, looking at him. “I don’t know, dude, some girl at work read it and didn’t want it anymore, and I thought you would like it. Now _come on_ , you’re missing the show and I’m not gonna explain anything.”

Harley gave the cover of the book one last once-over before he tossed it on the island. He’d probably end up reading it tomorrow afternoon, when he didn’t have a class.

A loud bang came from outside—well, outside his apartment, but still inside the building—followed by an extremely loud peal of laughter, and Harley let out a sigh, ignoring the way Gwen shot up in alarm.

“It’s just the person across the hall,” he said tiredly, more than used to it. The person—whoever it was, as they never seemed to be arriving at or leaving the building when Harley was—usually had loud bangs and thuds and such coming from their side of the floor quite frequently. In the beginning, it had freaked Harley out enough to the point where he’d broken his favorite mug, the one he’d brought from back home, but now he was more than used to it.

The laughter was something new, but Harley just assumed it was because of a roommate—he remembered a time when there were movers bringing boxes up to that apartment, but he’d hightailed it into his own apartment because he did not want to deal with social interaction that day. People sucked, and Harley got tired of them easily, what could he say.

“It’s literally not even ten,” Gwen mumbled, resituating herself on the couch because Harley had jumped onto the couch next to her. “What are they even doing?”

“I don’t know,” Harley sighed, attention already being drawn to the TV. “Now shut up, I’m trying to watch this terrible show.”

“Terrible,” Gwen scoffed lowly, like she knew he was lying.

Harley shoved her to the other end of the couch in retaliation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i'm not saying that you _have_ to check tags with every update, but I strongly suggest it. my writing doesn't really follow my outlines, no matter how much I wish it did, so sometimes it goes off in an unplanned direction that may cause me to have to update tags and ratings. just a warning. I'll put a reminder at the beginning of a chapter if any significant tag changes were made, if that helps :)
> 
> have a nice day <33


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter is a bit ooc in this. like, he's still awkward Peter, i just took that to a higher level, i guess? i don't know, i think it's cute, but let me know if it's something i should tag :)

The next morning was a bit more chaotic than it was on Thursday.

In true Gwen fashion, she left Harley’s apartment and left both her shoes and her bag behind. That caused Harley to have to call her at six-fifty in the morning, when she was still asleep and became cranky at being woken up a good ten minutes before her alarm. (Harley was pretty sure that ten fewer minutes of sleep wasn’t going to change anything, but Gwen seemed to think differently.)

Harley’s Friday morning class started at seven-fifteen—and he was really starting to regret choosing a class that started that early, he didn’t even know what he’d been thinking—which was ten minutes from now, and Gwen lived a good seven minutes’ walk away from Harley’s apartment, which meant that it would take her twelve minutes _minimum_ to show up. Gwen was a slow walker—and a slow mover in general—which infuriated Harley to no end, but it was something he’d learned to deal with it.

“Gwen, if you’re not here in the next _five fucking minutes_ , I’m just gonna leave and you need to come back after my class.”

He didn’t say he’d learned to deal with it _well_.

“Jesus, okay, calm down.” She grunted over the phone. “I didn’t even change out of my sweatpants,” she grumbled, and Harley paced in front of his apartment door, Gwen’s shoes and bag in hand. “Why did you even let me forget my shoes, what kind of friend are you?”

“Wh– Why did I _let_ you?” Harley asked, partly shocked but mostly just angry. “Are you kidding me? You left at, like, midnight, why the fuck would I be checking if you had your _shoes_?”

“I don’t know!” Gwen said back, and Harley could hear her feet pounding against the ground. She was running, apparently. Good. Harley had maintained a perfect attendance record to his bullshit of a morning class, and he wasn’t going to have it ruined because Gwen was a scatterbrained individual who forgot her shoes. “This is why the _take your damn shoes off_ rule–”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“–is completely unnecessary! If I take them off, I’m just going to forget to put them back on.”

Harley was starting to doubt that. He didn’t think she’d _forgotten_ her shoes—he was beginning to believe that she’d recognized she didn’t have them on but figured it would be fine if she left them at his apartment until she could go pick them up without him noticing. It sure as hell sounded like something she’d do.

“Whatever, Gwen, but the shoe rule doesn’t justify you forgetting your bag but still remembering to bring your phone home with you.”

“Oh, well, I’m _sorry_ if you _rushed_ me out the door and I happened to forget everything except the thing I was holding in my hand.”

Harley rolled his eyes, again, but didn’t respond. Mostly because he was on the brink of losing his mind, but also because he knew that the argument could’ve gone on forever. Gwen was the type of person who didn’t let things go, ever—she’d probably be bringing this situation up until she died.

By the time Gwen said, “Okay, okay, I’m here, meet me downstairs,” and hung up, it was six-fifty-four.

If Harley had the time he would’ve killed Gwen, without hesitation, but he was running too late for that, so she was safe.

He quickly pulled on his sneakers, grabbing Gwen’s shoes and her bag, and his bag, too, and opened the door to his apartment. Locking it behind him, he quickly darted to the stairs, ignoring the laughter coming from across the hall—and, really, laughing at any time of day before seven, seven-thirty at the latest, was ridiculous—and began to race down them, hoping that Gwen didn’t have anything too sensitive in her bag. He also hoped that no one would complain about him breaking the building’s quiet hours. Quiet hours ranged from ten at night to seven the following morning—he figured it was close enough to seven that no one really cared.

Harley made it to the ground floor—after running down _four_ flights of stairs, which was never happening again—and ran smack into Gwen. He scowled at her and held out her bag and shoes, shaking them lightly. “Here,” he said, “take them, bye.”

He was starting to walk away when Gwen called after him.

“Pick me up some pads, please,” she shouted, and Harley waved over his shoulder.

Gwen had no shame, and one day Harley was going to kill her because of it.

~

Harley opened the door to the apartment building, a plastic bag with a box of pads in his hand, and made his way to the individual mailboxes at the other end of the small lobby. It was a little after nine-thirty in the morning, which was, as Harley had discovered, a good time to check the mailboxes. There usually weren’t any people around to bother him, so he could collect any mail he’d gotten and be on his way up to his apartment.

Normally he’d have already checked the mail, as he was usually home from his morning class at around nine-fifteen, but, like Gwen had asked him, he’d stopped to get pads. The most likely thing that was going to happen was that Gwen would leave half of the pads at his apartment and take the other half back to her parent’s house.

Knowing a rich person had its perks. Harley had gotten an apartment for relatively cheap. Gwen hadn’t been so lucky. The only job she had lined up was the one that would possibly come after her internship was up, and she was still a good couple months’ time away from that.

He’d meant to offer her the second bedroom in his apartment, and they could split the rent, but he’d never gotten around to it. And he’d have to discuss it with Tony first, to see if he’d be okay with it. To see if it was even _possible_ , actually, considering that Tony was handling half the rent and all of the bills—he doubted that he and Gwen could manage that by themselves.

Yelling coming from the stairs caught Harley’s attention, and he turned around to see what was going on.

A tall girl came down the stairs first. She was wearing jeans and a flannel with a shirt under it, and her hands were covering her ears. “No,” she was saying. “That’s disgusting, why would you even _say_ that.”

A guy came down next. He was short and stout, and was laughing. “C’mon, you gotta admit it does sound pretty good.”

As the girl let out a disgusting sound, a final person came down the stairs.

It was another guy, except this one had to be the cutest boy he’d ever seen. The _cutest_. He was short, about as tall as the other guy, which meant that he was shorter than Harley, and he had brown hair that looked an absolute _mess_ , and he was wearing sweatpants with what Harley was pretty sure was a ketchup stain on the right thigh. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, one that absolutely dwarfed his hands. And he was _laughing_. It sounded like a full-on belly laugh, like the ones that made your stomach hurt, and his smile was so wide, and his eyes were crinkled at the sides.

Who gave anyone the right to be as fucking _adorable_ as this guy was?

Harley was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open to go along with how intently he was staring at Cute Guy.

“Bacon-flavored lollipops are the things of the _future_ , guys, just think about it.”

And Cute Guy was instantly one hundred times more adorable than Harley had previously found him. _Bacon-flavored lollipops_ sounded absolutely disgusting, but Harley was pretty sure that he’d give them a try if it meant making the human being in front of him happy.

Harley must’ve blanked out or something, because the next thing he knew Cute Guy’s friends—he was assuming they were his friends, at least—were gone and he and Cute Guy were the only ones standing in the lobby.

Cute Guy turned around laughing, but then he saw Harley standing at the mailboxes and froze up. Literally. Harley swore that the dude wasn’t even breathing, his face had gone so white.

Cute Guy cleared his throat, gave Harley a stiff nod, and then moved towards the elevator, pressing the button and crossing his arms.

Harley quickly checked his mailbox—empty—and locked it back up again, shoving the keys in the pocket of the jeans he was wearing and hurrying over to the elevator right as it opened.

He let Cute Guy in the elevator first—or, rather, he _had_ to let Cute Guy in the elevator first, because he’d dropped the bag holding the box of pads and had to pick them up. When he got into the elevator, Cute Guy immediately went to the right corner, something that Harley found weird but didn’t dwell on because, _wow_ , the guy was even cuter up close. Harley really hated objectifying people, reducing them to his looks, so he decided to strike up a conversation.

“Bacon-flavored lollipops, huh?” he asked.

His lips twitched up at the corners when Cute Guy’s face turned red. So adorable. Harley was going to get to know this guy if it killed him.

He suddenly remembered that he hadn’t pressed the button for the fourth floor—and that he was still staring at Cute Guy like a _creep_ —so he turned away. But the button for the fourth floor was already lit up.

Frowning, Harley looked back at Cute Guy. Harley had previously and unknowingly been operating under the assumption that he lived on another floor—him living on the same floor as Harley was never an option to consider. He thought back to all the times he’d complained to Gwen about his neighbor, to all the times he’d cursed them out from the comfort of his own apartment. The walls were pretty thin—and the space between their apartments was also relatively small—so even though they were on opposite sides of the floor, it was easy to hear what was going on in each other’s apartments if it was loud enough.

“Oh, I didn’t know you lived on the fourth floor,” Harley said casually, grinning when Cute Guy nodded. “Guess you’re my floor neighbor then.”

All Cute Guy did was nod, his face a flaming red and not offering up any response. He seemed painfully shy, almost, and Harley thought it was cute. A little bit endearing, too. Harley let him out of the elevator first, slowly making his way to his own apartment, and watched as Cute Guy unlocked his door and then practically ran into his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him.

Okay then.

Harley smiled to himself as he stared at the door of the other apartment. He was feeling more than a little conflicted. On one hand, Harley had always felt some diluted form of resentment towards his floor neighbor, but on the other, he was _adorable_. And he wasn’t saying that he liked his neighbor just because he was adorable, he was just.

He’d never seen him before, was the thing, so he’d always felt a little detached from it. Like, he knew he had a neighbor, but it hadn’t fully sunk in that he _had_ a neighbor until they’d met face-to-face. And now that they’d met, it was like Harley’s eyes had been opened to the possibilities of having a neighbor. Of having a _cute_ neighbor.

He needed to call Gwen.

Harley made it into his apartment, taking his shoes off at the front door. He tossed the pads on the island in the kitchen area and started to walk towards his bedroom, unlocking his phone to call Gwen as he went.

He closed his bedroom door behind him as the phone rang, and then he tossed it onto his bed after putting it on speaker so he could take off his jeans and change into a pair of sweatpants.

“Bro,” Gwen said almost immediately after she picked up, skipping a greeting. “I know you’re in love with me, but you gotta calm it down with the calling me _all the time_ , it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Shut up.” Harley rolled his eyes, even though Gwen most definitely could not see him. Like he said earlier, rolling his eyes at anything Gwen said was a natural reaction that he couldn’t help. “I met my neighbor today.”

“Are you talking about your _neighbor_ neighbor?” Another eye roll from Harley, this time paired with an exasperated shake of the head as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and jumped on his bed, taking his phone off of speaker and holding it up to his ear. “Like, the one you’ve never ever seen before?”

“Yes, Gwen, that neighbor.” Honestly, what other neighbor would he possibly have if each floor of the apartment building only had two apartments. Harley worried for Gwen’s sanity, sometimes.

“Oh, shit, no way.” He heard voices in the background, and then remembered that Gwen was at work and realized that he was probably distracting her. Gwen didn’t seem to care, though. “Okay, I’m in the bathroom. What do they look like? Is it a guy?”

“Yes, it’s a guy.”

Gwen paused like she was waiting for something. When Harley didn’t say anything—he wasn’t a mind reader, how was he supposed to know what she wanted—she let out a weird sound. “ _Well?_ ” she demanded. “Was he cute? Was he _old_? Details, Harley, give me details, _I need details_.”

Harley groaned. “This dude is so _pretty_ , Gwen, I swear I died. He was _laughing_ when I saw him, and he has the prettiest eyes. And his _teeth_. Liking someone’s teeth is creepy, okay, I’m not the tooth fairy or whatever, but his are so fucking cute.”

Another pause, but this one ended way quicker than the last one. Gwen’s roaring laughter met his ears after a couple of seconds.

Harley groaned again, burying his face into his pillows. He lifted his head to speak. “This is why I don’t tell you shit, I hope you know that.” Gwen continued to laugh. “Okay, I’m gonna hang up now, you go on back to work.”

“No,” Gwen shouted through her laughter. “No, no, I’m sorry, Harley, I really am, but that’s _adorable_.”

“I don’t know why we’re friends,” he said, deadpan. He knew. He knew so well why they were friends. Gwen was a disaster of a human being, and Harley was a different type of disaster that was drawn to disasters.

“You love me,” Gwen said smugly, like she was reading Harley’s mind. “Listen, I gotta get back to work, but when I get off we are _talking about this_ , okay?”

“Of course,” Harley said easily. “Oh, and I got you pads, so.”

“God,” Gwen said. “You’re the only valid male on this planet, I hope you know that.”

“You might have to keep telling me, just so it can really sink in.”

Gwen laughed. “Ass. I’ll stop by later, ‘kay?”

“Okay.”

Harley hung up, looked around his bedroom, and promptly realized that he did not have a life of any kind.

There he was, nine-thirty on a Friday morning with no plans for the rest of the day. It was kind of pathetic, really, that the only friend he’d managed to make was Gwen. Then again, it wasn’t like he _wanted_ any more friends. Social interaction was both too much work and overrated, and Harley had always had a rather large aversion to it. It became a problem, though, when that aversion threatened to have him cooped up in his apartment all day.

He sighed. Looked like he was going for a walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took forever to post bc the internet connection I have rn is pretty slow :/
> 
> have a good day, guys <33


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i totally messed this fic up guys, pacing-wise this chapter is a little iffy, and leading into the next one it gets even weirder, so I'm sorry for that. this is what I get for posting without a beta ha. i promise I'm working on it, and I'll get around to editing it to make sure that everything goes smoothly (and I'll probably get rana to look it over for me, too). sorry again!

Harley didn’t end up going on the walk right away. He actually ended up taking a nap—or, lying awake in his bed on his phone, rather—for a couple of hours before he decided that fresh air and some exercise could do him some good.

There was a park close to Harley’s apartment building. It wasn’t big in any sense of the word, or even a relatively good park overall, so it was always fairly empty. Harley had found it walking home from campus one day. He’d taken a shortcut—that was not short, at all, it was actually longer than taking the regular, straight-forward route, but Harley hadn’t known that until after—and had ended up in this park.

The park didn’t have much of anything. Only a lone pair of swings and a rusted metal slide, as well as a few broken benches around the edges of the grass. As far as Harley could tell, based on what he’d seen the past few weeks, no one seemed to stop by the park, or even notice that it was there. Then again, that could’ve just been Harley’s own failure to notice most things, or even the fact that he could’ve been showing up to the park when no one else happened to be there.

He didn’t know, and he really didn’t care—all he cared about was the fact that it was empty, and he didn’t have to talk to anyone.

Harley was a friendly person. Or, he liked to think he was. He made the _attempt_ to come off as a friendly person, rather, when he needed to, but he could admit that he sometimes didn’t succeed. Social interaction wasn’t something he was interested in—he thought it was stupid—and sometimes that bled through his words and body language to whatever person he happened to be interacting with. He knew he could be a bit blunt, and oblivious to most social cues, which was why he didn’t make much of an effort to interact with people outside of those he’d known for a long time (which was only four people, but eh).

His aversion to talking to people was most likely part of the reason he had ended up where he was—a young adult with only four people he both talked to on a regular basis and somewhat _enjoyed_ talking to.

As he thought about that, making his way to sit down on a relatively unbroken part of one of the park’s benches, he saw a red and blue figure at the other end of the park. A frown unconsciously made its way onto his face as he tried to squint to make what he was seeing clearer—he didn’t need glasses and refused to get them if he did—but it cleared once the figure disappeared from sight. Brushing it off as his eyes—or his brain, which was honestly more likely—playing tricks on him, Harley took a seat on the bench he’d spotted.

The thing he really wanted to do at this moment was take a nap. Sure, the benches were extremely uncomfortable, but it looked like it was shaping up to be a nice day. And he didn’t have anything valuable on him, so if someone tried to mug him they’d only end up disappointed. Plus, a nap sounded good right about now, not because he was tired, but because he slept when he was bored.

(Nevermind the fact that he seemed to be sleeping more and more lately—he really needed to find a hobby or something to fill his time. He probably could’ve started to pick up more shifts at the auto shop, but he didn’t want to commit himself to doing something, to being a set cog in a machine somewhere, if he wasn’t sure that was what he wanted to do with himself.)

Harley sighed, shifting slightly to relieve the uncomfortable pain that had sprouted up in his lower back and hips—God, here he was, talking about his _back_ and his _hips_ like he was way older than nineteen—and looked around.

Like always, no one was around. Unlike always, though, it was unnerving instead of relaxing. It felt as if someone was - he didn’t want to say _watching_ him, because the feeling prickling the hairs on the back of his neck and shooting down his spine didn’t quite feel like that.

It wasn’t a big deal, didn’t really matter to him, but he just wanted to put a name to it. He didn’t like mystery feelings, ones without names that could change and hide beneath a disguise of something else until they overpowered you with a surprise attack on your mind. Mystery feelings were bad news and Harley wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of bad news.

Acting as a distraction—or a well-timed coincidence—his phone rang from where he’d stuffed it in his pocket on his way out of his apartment, vibrating against his leg through the fabric of his jeans.

He leaned back, lifting his hips forward to allow himself enough room to wiggle his phone out of his pocket.

The phone wasn’t an expensive or newer one. He’d bought it with his own money, which meant he’d opted for one that was a bit older and ran a bit slower, and he’d gotten a limited amount of talk, text, and data. He didn’t use the phone all that much anyway, so it wasn’t extremely important that he get one with all of that stuff.

Harley looked down at the screen, and he felt himself soften when he saw that Abby was calling.

Abby was only fifteen, barely even a teenager. Harley wasn’t sure what had happened, or when it had happened, rather, but Abby had started pulling away. When they were younger, Abby used to hang on to his every word, following him around like a puppy. And, yeah, it had been a little bit annoying, but he knew that she was only doing it because their father was a dirtbag and their mother had taken a backseat role in their lives.

When Harley had left for New York, Abby hadn’t called or accepted his calls for a week. He didn’t know what was going on, or what her problem was. Since then, they called each other to talk at least twice a week, but Harley still didn’t know exactly—or at all—what had happened for that week.

He slid his finger across the screen, accepting the call, and brought his phone up to his ear. “Hello?”

Abby, in true Abby fashion, didn’t say a greeting in response, instead immediately jumping into a conversation. “Guess what just happened.”

Harley hummed, racking his brain for the last thing they talked about as he relaxed back against the bench, crossing his left arm over his body and using it to prop up his right hand so it didn’t fall completely asleep during his conversation with Abby. “I got nothing, Abs.”

“I told you not to call me that,” she said, sounding irritated, and Harley smirked as she finished her sentence, “ _Harleen_.”

“If you’d stop calling me _that_ , I wouldn’t call you Abs.”

“That’s tough,” Abby said, her voice deceptively sweet, “‘cause I ain’t stopping.”

Harley snorted, shaking his head. “Just go on an’ tell me what me what happened.”

“Ok, so Lily, you remember Lily?” Harley made a non-committal noise as he watched a bird land on a bench on the other side of the park—he kind of remembered Abby talking about a Lily once, a long time ago. Not enough to know if she held any significance to the story, but enough to know that she was one of Abby’s friends. “Well, Lily heard from Chris who heard from George who heard from Heath, who heard from Thresh who heard from Jaimee who heard from Sarah, that Sam had a crush on me.”

Harley was as lost as a city boy in a corn maze. “How ‘bout that. That’s pretty cool, Abs.”

“I know!” Abby squealed. “And normally I wouldn’t get all caught up in gossip like that, but they smiled at me when I passed them in the hallway, and I just, it’s nice to think that someone has a crush on me, you know?”

“Sure,” Harley said easily, only half-listening as he kept his eyes on the bird, which was hopping along the ground and pecking at it occasionally. “So this is a good thing, then?”

“Of _course_ it’s a good thing, Harleen, weren’t you listening?” Ooh, Harley so wanted to say something, snark back at her, but it was pretty clear, even to him, that Abby was genuinely excited, and Harley didn’t want to ruin that. “I’ve liked Sam for pretty much forever, it’s crazy to think that they might finally like me back.”

Harley hummed again, suddenly wishing that he was back home, at his house. He could see Abby in person, braid her hair into the pigtails she used to wear all the time when she was younger. She could nudge his ribs and poke his sides, and he could pretend to hate it when he actually tolerated it more than he let on.

“Miss you, Abs,” he said suddenly, out of nowhere. Abby didn’t respond, so Harley continued. “I know I don’t say that a lot, say it enough, really, but. I do.”

“Yeah,” Abby said softly after a few seconds of silence. “Miss you too.” They both fell into silence for a few seconds more, and then Abby was clearing her to break it. “You know who else misses you?”

Harley groaned. “Please don’t start with this again, you know I–”

“Ma misses you a whole lot, Harley,” Abby continued, like he hadn’t even said anything. “She keeps goin’ on an’ on about it.” Harley rubbed his eyes, dragging his hand down his face. “‘S all she ever talks about,” Abby said softly, and Harley stood up from the bench, feeling a tightness in his chest and sudden energy flowing throughout his body.

He shoved a hand into his pocket, keeping the phone up to his ear. “Look. She doesn’t miss me. I know that.”

“Harley–”

“And you know that, too, Abs,” Harley said, talking over her and raising his voice to get his point across. “We both know it. We both know that she’s only missing me ‘cause she didn’t wan’ me to leave, and she didn’t wan’ me to leave ‘cause she couldn’t leave. And that’s that. That’s the whole situation right there.”

Abby scoffed. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. 'Cause people aren't allowed to miss you.”

Harley sighed, feeling like shit. He always made sure to leave their mother out of their conversations because of their different feelings towards her, but today he just. It was like all of that got thrown right out the window as soon as Abby had brought her up. And that wasn’t Harley blaming her, that was him... No, yeah, it felt like he was blaming Abby, and he didn’t have a defense for that.

“Abby, I’m sor–”

“I gotta go, I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe.”

“Ab–”

The dial tone sounded, meaning that Abby had hung up on him, and Harley let out a string of curses as he lowered his phone from his hair. He lifted a hand to tug it through his hair, and he gripped it tight, pulling hard on the strands. Classic Harley, unintentionally messing up every one of his relationships. It always happened in the end, without him meaning to. It was inevitable. He just didn’t think it could ever happen with Abby. Ha. He should’ve known better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come stop by my tumblr! cause im always bored! and want more friends! (or don't, you don't have to, no pressure, I'm actually pretty annoying once you get to know me)

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://michellejones-stacy.tumblr.com/)! send me prompts, requests, and asks, or we could just be friends <33
> 
> this was the result of many writing sprints (and will be the result of many more) on the [parkner server](https://discord.gg/DdqVjvsQTY) cause i'm incapable of doing anything on my own lmao


End file.
